


Daddy, Dearest

by JackyJango



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles is a Sweetheart, Charles is a Teacher, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Family Fluff, Grumpy Erik Lehnsherr, M/M, Past Character Death, Protective Erik, Slow Burn, dadneto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 22:17:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17754506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/pseuds/JackyJango
Summary: Charles smiles fondly at Peter's drawing as the boy drops it on the table in a blur of silver.It's innocent in a way only a child's can be. Wanda, on the right, is dressed in a red frock while Peter on the left is dressed in black trousers and what Charles infers in reference to his silver hair is a silver jacket. The man in the middle-- Mr. Maximoff-- with short hair and a beard, clad in what looks like a plaid shirt and jeans is holding both their hands. All three are smiling, Mr. Maximoff excessively so, baring all his sharp teeth in a wide grin.Charles knows that Peter is exaggerating, but strangely, that smile reminds Charles of his adversary from high school.Charles isn't the one to use that term loosely, nor he is the one to have adversaries to begin with. But if anyone had come close to meaning half of it, it was Erik Magnus Lehnsherr.Even after all these years… Charles cuts his thoughts short.





	Daddy, Dearest

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for all the support and encouragement when I first posted this fic on Tumble **[here](https://jackyjango.tumblr.com/post/177462020053/daddy-dearest-a-modern-day-powered-au-tags)**
> 
> I plan on continuing this, so I hope you enjoy! :D
> 
> Cheers! :D

         Charles massages his forehead again. What had started as a dull ache at the back of his head had spread over the last two hours. At this rate, it's going to turn into a full-blown migraine by the end of the day.

The first two weeks of school are always difficult. With the kids still high on energy from the summer holidays it'll take another week or so in the least for them to wind down to a schedule.

There are five new students this year-- all mutants. It should be a good thing, really-- Charles is always thrilled to have new students admitted into the school. But just not in this situation. The basketball court and the gym are under renovations, and they're short of two teachers; which means that Charles has to juggle between supervising the renovations and substituting for the said teachers. It doesn't help the fact that three of the five new students are extremely mischievous.

The naughtiest of them all is Peter Maximoff, who simply won't sit still for even for a millisecond. To make matters worse, his mutation is Superhuman Speed. At just five, he can run three laps of the classroom in the blink of an eye. Luckily, his twin sister, Wanda is docile. She doesn't speak much with anyone who isn't her brother, but she has a bright mind when it comes to imbibing her lessons or observing her surroundings attentively. It'll take some time for her to mingle with the others, Charles understands. He'll help her if in that aspect if necessary.

Then there's Alex Summers, who's hell bent on destruction. They've already had to replace a bulletin board and a chair; and they're still in the first week of school.

Ororo gets a certain joy by scaring others with the white sparks that trickle out of her fingertips. It had been tough making her understand that such behaviour wouldn't be accepted, which only encouraged her further into doubling her antics.

It's not that little Kitty is troublesome, but she needs more attention than the rest. Recently manifested, she often finds her leg getting stuck in a chair or an aimlessly batted hand caught inside a table. Calming a crying Kitty and rescuing her without injuries has, by far, not been easy.

'Please listen,’ Charles emphasises when the class collapses into a din of chatter. Peter runs to his sister and back to his chair before Charles can finish. Mort is sticking his tongue out and gazing intently at something on the table. Bright sparks of light are bursting in front of Illyana, coaxing giggles out of her.

'Class, listen!’ Charles says out forcefully, again, and picks up the bowl on the table. The new object in Charles’ hands becomes the centre of his students’ attention as they turn towards him.

‘We're going to do an activity,’ he says when the class goes quiet, ‘Each one of you will come here and pick up a chit from this bowl.’ He shakes the bowl in his hands, shuffling the chits inside. 'Once you've gone back to your place, you'll have to draw and colour whatever you think the chit says.’

To demonstrate, he picks up a chit from the bowl. 'Favourite food’, the rectangular strip of paper reads. Charles does love a good Mac and Cheese any day, but he can't draw a bowl of Mac and Cheese without making it look like abstract geometry. He settles for drawing a pizza on the board. It's what he ends up ordering nowadays, anyway. Plus, it's simpler to draw.

It earns him enthusiastic nods and energetic claps from his students.

'It’s simple, see...’ Charles says as he turns to face them. The kids are gleaming at him, eager to start. Peter is already fidgeting in his seat, struggling to sit still.  

Charles sighs. 'Peter, why don't we start with you?’

Peter has grabbed a chit and has gone back to his seat even before Charles has finished the sentence.

Following Peter's example, the others jump from their seats and make a beeline for the bowl. 'In a line… Please come in a line. One by one,’ Charles shouts over their excited chanting of 'me me me’ as he lifts the bowl higher to keep it out of the reach of their outstretched hands.

Once everyone has picked a chit and settled down in their seats around the oval table, Charles walks behind their chairs slowly.

Charles isn't aware of the contents of the chits; Theresa had been kind and had offered to make them.

Alex is sticking out his tongue and scrubbing his crayon over the paper. Ah, of course, his ‘Favourite Toy’ is a red toy gun. Darwin-- bless his creativity-- is drawing a blue house with yellow windows accompanied by an orange tree for 'My Home’. Ororo is trying and failing to draw the scales on a fish for 'My Pet’.

Just when the satisfaction of bringing out the children's creativity has begun to settle inside, Chairs spots Peter at the very end of the table.

The boy is sitting so still that for a moment Charles wonders if he's imagining things. His silver brows are pulled inwards and his thin lips seem even thinner where they're pressed together. His vision is fixed on the blank paper, his chit forgotten on the side.

Charles has never seen Peter like this. There's always a face splitting grin on his face, even when he falls down by tripping on table legs in his haste.

Charles walks towards the boy and sits down on the low stool next to him.

'Peter,’ he calls out softly and lays a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The boy lifts his head up. His brows release revealing the blue of his eyes.

As a rule, Charles doesn't read the minds of children. The brain structure isn't completely formed, it's way more chaotic than adults’, and more prone to damage from telepathic contacts. Charles’ shields are always up during school hours. But even his shields are not effective in blocking out the waves of wariness radiating from Peter.

‘Are you having trouble drawing, darling?’ he asks softly, leaning in towards the boy.

Peter nods his head slowly.

'That's no problem, I can help you with it,’ Charles reassures him with his best smile. ‘Let's see what you've got.’ He picks up the chit from the table. 'My Mother’ it reads.

Charles doesn't understand what to make of it. Is the boy simply not able to put his thoughts into a drawing? Does he come from a broken family? Does he have an estranged mother, or God forbid, an emotionally distant one?

Peter's bottom lip is trembling when Charles turns to face him. Not wanting to presume, he says, 'Peter, why don't you tell me about your mother, and we'll see what we can draw.’

Peter is quiet for a long time, only looking up at Charles with wide eyes. Dealing with children is simultaneously simple and complicated. So Charles waits patiently running a soothing hand up and down Peter's back.

Just when Charles begins to wonder if the boy will answer at all, Peter says, 'My Vati says that my Mama is a star in the sky, and that she watches over us when we sleep.’

Of all the things Charles had expected, Peter's answer isn’t one of them. A swell of sympathy bubbles up from the bottom of his stomach. He knows all too well of what it's like to lose a parent _. The kids are still so young_ . _It's brutally unfair._

‘What else does your father tell you about her?’ (Vati is German for Father, if Charles remembers correctly)

‘He says that she loves us very much. Much more than we love her.’

Charles smiles. It's perhaps a mild relief in this unfortunate situation that the twins have a father who’s there for them. ‘I'm sure your mother loves you a lot, darling. And the two of you are very lucky to have a wonderful father.’

The listlessness on Peter's face abates and a small smile takes its place at the mention of his father. Peter nods his head quickly in answer and adds: ‘Vati is the best! He sings to us before bed. He makes us cake on our birthday. But not as good as Nana though. He can never cook asgoodasNana-’ that's the last of Peter's words Charles catches before it quickens to cover a mile per second. Charles doesn't need to listen to the rest of it to have his assumption confirmed that Mr. Maximoff, is in fact, is a loving father.

An idea strikes. ‘In that case, Peter,’ Charles says when Peter finally finishes speaking. Pulling out his pen from his breast pocket, he scratches the ' _Mo_ ’ from the chit and writes a ' _Fa_ ’ on top of it. ‘Why don't we draw your father instead?’ Charles  leans in conspiratorially and whispers, ‘Now now, this is a secret between you and me, alright? So don't tell anyone.’

'Not even to Wanda?’

'Not even Wanda.’

A quick smile blooms on Peter's face. 'I can do that!’ he says and delves into sorting out his crayons.

Charles sits there for a few more minutes watching as Peter draws and erases out the frame of a stick figure. Generally, Charles makes it a point to keep a steady correspondence with the parents of all his students and meet them in person. He had missed meeting the Maximoffs on the first day of school. Mr. Maximoff had dropped in just as he had left towards the gym to meet with the contractor.

Charles makes a mental note to meet Mr. Maximoff when the latter comes to pick up the kids that day.

*

Charles smiles fondly at Peter's drawing as the boy drops it on the table in a blur of silver.

It's innocent in a way only a child's can be. Wanda, on the right, is dressed in a red frock while Peter on the left is dressed in black trousers and what Charles infers in reference to his silver hair is a silver jacket. The man in the middle-- Mr. Maximoff-- with short hair and a beard, clad in what looks like a plaid shirt and jeans is holding both their hands. All three are smiling, Mr. Maximoff excessively so, baring all his sharp teeth in a wide grin.

Charles knows that Peter is exaggerating, but strangely, that smile reminds Charles of his adversary from high school.

Charles isn't the one to use that term loosely, nor he is the one to have adversaries to begin with. But if anyone had come close to meaning half of it, it was Erik Magnus Lehnsherr.

Even after all these years… Charles cuts his thoughts short.

He looks down at the sheet again. Mr. Maximoff, he reminds himself. He should meet with Mr. Maximoff after school.

**Author's Note:**

> Do let me what you think! :D


End file.
